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Runaway Ranch is the most breathtaking place I’ve ever been.
The realest thing I’ve ever seen.
Holding my breath, I lean forward, wanting a better view. My heart hammers in solidarity with my recklessness.
I want to see more.
I want to see everything.
I inch forward and gasp when a red-tailed hawk flies in front of my face. My body becomes airborne as I’m picked up and then set back on my feet.
“Jesus.” Charlie tucks me against his muscled chest, his handsome face as dark as a storm cloud.
I twist in his arms and lift my sunglasses, blinking up at him. He’s still holding on to me, hand fisted in the waistband of my jeans. “What’s wrong?”
Expression twisted in annoyance, he roughs his free hand over his beard. “You have got to stop doing that, Ruby.”
“What?”
“Gasping.” A crease forms between his eyebrows. His hand pulls me tighter to him. I glance down and see his fingers are white-knuckled, gripping the curve of my hip. “I thought you were fucking falling.”
I want to tell him falling is the least of my worries, to get used to my gasps of awe, but the fear in his heated gaze has me dropping the battle.
“Okay,” I agree. When I settle in beside him, I hear his breathing steady. “I’ll look from here.” I glance up at him. “You can let me go now, Cowboy.”
His throat works and the air between us rises several degrees. My pulse quickens at the mix of stern anger and reluctant concern on his face.
Finally, he drops his big hand from my waist and crosses his arms. Some of the tension leaves his expression.
With that, a comfortable silence falls between us as Charlie and I stand here admiring the scenery, the view our only witness.
“This is Runaway Ranch,” Charlie says, pride in his deep voice. “What it’s all about.”
I see what he’s trying to show me. People. Beauty. Wild wilderness.
Everything he cares about is on this land below us.
“Tell me why,” I say, and put an earnest hand on his arm. “Tell me why you love it, Charlie.”
He looks down at me, a muscle popping in his jaw, and our gazes pin. Those cornflower blue eyes flame.
At first, I think I’ve hit a nerve, I’ll be met with another grunt or cold shoulder, but Charlie’s deep voice rumbles out like a spool of velvet unfurling over me. “It ain’t for everybody,” he begins. “Loving the earth. But when something’s made for you, you know it. You feel it.” He inhales deeply and stares out over the land. His brow, his mouth soften. “Now, I don’t love the land because it’s mine, because you can never own that type of wild beauty. I love it because it’s alive. Because it can’t be tamed. You feel it in the air. In the sun that comes up over the meadow. When I rise, I rise with the land. And when my working day is over, I turn in. The land speaks to you, says you got something to live for. It keeps you going even when you think about giving up. To believe in the land means you believe in yourself. Means you do one worthy thing with the time you have left in this world.”
My throat closes up for a second.
The man, his words, are magnetic.
It gives you purpose. Life.
“I love that, Charlie,” I tell him, bringing my hands to my thundering heart. “I love your ranch. And we’re gonna save it.”
As I turn back to the view, our arms brush against each other, and my body heats.
Charlie looks down like he’s felt it too. The shift in the air. Electricity.
The apple of his throat works over unsaid words.
I tilt my face up toward him. He’s in the sun, his handsome face darkened by shadow, but I still see him. There’s pride in his expression. But there’s also something else too. Fear. Some kind of sadness there.
